


Held Against You

by 3DMG Shenanigans (Lightningpelt)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angel/Demon Relationship, Betrayal, F/M, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 21:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7137578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightningpelt/pseuds/3DMG%20Shenanigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A runaway demoness shouldn’t have accepted the kindness of a seemingly earth-bound angel, but she did. Whether either of them regretted it was entirely up for debate.</p>
<p>Angel!Armin/Demon!Annie</p>
            </blockquote>





	Held Against You

**Author's Note:**

> Started this _forever_ ago and finally got off the dime and finished it! Hoping to pick up Paint Me an Ocean again soon, as well as TLatC. Apologies for my absence from the fandom! I hope this offering helps to make amends somewhat~   
> ~~I am woefully unprepared for chapter 82 to come out on CR later today send help...~~

The sun was hot, certainly, but it wasn’t nearly as scorching as the unholy fires of hell.

The young girl sighed, leaning against the sun-warmed brick wall and gazing up at the endless cerulean sky. The people passing by paid her no head; they all had places to go and things to do—business to go about on the planet earth. The girl found herself wishing that she could join the hustle and bustle; forget about everything else among the simple-minded mortals.

“To be swept along with the flow…”

She began to walk, albeit slower than those around her, her head down and her ears shut to the noise enveloping her. The one thing that broke through her indifference was the scent of a bakery as she passed it; being in the mortal world had disadvantages, after all, one of which being the vulnerability of mortal needs. She paused, the passing people parting automatically around her like a river flowing around a stone. Although she knew that she had no currency, she saw no harm in relishing the aroma of baked goods for a precious moment or two.

“What’s a pretty, _nasty_ thing like you doing on this plane of existence?”

The girl jumped slightly, startled. There was a boy, also still among the ebb and flow of humanity, sitting neatly on one of the metal chairs outside the bakery. He looked to be in his early twenties and was smirking, shining blue eyes locked on her.

“I could ask you the same,” she said, after she had overcome her initial surprise. 

“You could,” he acknowledged, pulling out a cigarette and holding it out. “You guys have built in lighters, right? Do you mind?”

The girl, eyebrows arching in surprise, stepped closer to him—close enough so that she could reach out and touch the end of his cigarette with one fingertip. Sparks erupted, leaving the narrow white cylinder glowing red, and the boy brought it to his lips.

“Ah,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “Want one?”

“I don’t smoke,” the girl replied, her voice shallow with surprise. “Since when do you do-gooders indulge in such things?”

“If you’re going to spend time in this world, you may as well indulge in a few carnal pleasures,” the boy replied, blowing out a cloud of smoke. He motioned, with his cigarette, to the shop. “Hungry? My treat, of course, for the lovely succubus.”

“What a gentleman,” the girl said, her eyes narrowing. “I’ve never heard of such chivalry between our races.”

The boy rose; dropped his cigarette and ground it out with the heel of his boot. “I certainly don’t know why,” he murmured, and then opened the door to the bakery. “After m'lady.”

“Call me Annie,” the girl said, and the boy’s eyebrows arched.

“My pleasure, Annie. My name is Armin.”

Annie watched as her newfound companion walked over to the counter, leaned over it and ordered them some of the strange confections in the display case as well as two drinks; she peered at the wallet he pulled from his pocket.

“You’ve been here for a while, then?”

Armin nodded easily. “Yes, for a while; long enough to know how necessary money is in this world.”

“That’s a lesson that I still need to learn, or so it appears,” Annie murmured, and the boy smirked.

“I’m glad you ran into me, or you would have gone awfully hungry.”

“I’m quite grateful as well,” the girl said, and accepted the plate of food he held out for her. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Armin said, with a genuine smile. “It’s not every day that I meet worthwhile company in this sea of mortal nitwits.”

Annie snorted softly. “I never thought I’d see the day when one of your kind considered one of mine ‘worthwhile company.’” For some reason, it made her heart inexplicably light, as did this Armin character’s shining blue eyes.

The boy’s smile widened. “I don’t care if you’re the daughter of Satan himself, so long as you’re capable of an intelligent conversation; that’s what makes worthwhile companionship for me.”

Annie followed the strange boy to a table, sitting down across from him and taking a bite of her pastry. She licked her lips to rid them of crumbs.

“So what brings you up to the world of mortals?” Armin asked, taking a long drink of his fragrant beverage. “Some satanic errand?”

Annie grimaced. “Actually, a fight with my two Blood Brothers.”

Armin’s eyebrows rose. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be… you know, as close as siblings?”

“Don’t siblings fight?” Annie shot back, taking a sip of her drink and spluttering. “What in Hell is this horrid stuff?”

“Coffee,” Armin replied, smiling ruefully. “I shouldn’t have assumed you’d like it black. I’ll fetch some cream and sugar.”

The drink was more palatable after Annie had dumped several packets of white liquids and powders into it, and she resumed their conversation of her own accord. “We were assigned to get some girl to commit suicide, and I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Seems I’ve found a demon with a conscience,” Armin commented, and Annie snorted.

“Yes, and I’ve found myself an angel with a smoking habit.”

The boy laughed. “I suppose so. Listen, if you came here in a rush, you probably don’t have the proper documentation. You don’t even have any bindings, do you?”

Annie shook her head reluctantly, taking another bite of her pastry. “I came through the first portal I could find. I don’t even know what city I’m in right now.”

Armin smiled. “In that case, you can stay at my place. It gets lonely around here, you know.”

The girl’s mouth fell open, though she recovered her composure quickly. “Couldn’t you get in trouble for associating with me?”

“Just like you could get in trouble for associating with me,” the boy answered calmly, leaning across the table.

“I’m already in trouble,” the girl snorted. “And I’d be a damn fool on top of it to turn down your offer.”

“So that’s a yes?” Armin asked, but was quick to regain his composure. “Excellent.”

“What business do _you_ have on this plane?” Annie asked, wondering if the angel would return her good faith with good faith. She wasn’t altogether surprised when he wagged his finger at her.

“That’s something that should stay a secret from runaway demonesses,” he said, and Annie couldn’t exactly argue. “But I’m certainly not in direct conflict with any of your kind at the moment, so that should put your mind somewhat at rest.”

“It does,” Annie admitted. “I’ve heard about The Lord sending demon-hunting patrols down to earth from time to time, and it would be rather awkward if I found myself dragged home by one like some wayward impling.”

Armin chuckled. “That certainly isn’t why I was sent here, rest assured.” He popped the rest of his pastry into his mouth, then stood and brushed the crumbs from his jeans. “Shall we?”

Annie nodded, draining the last of her coffee before following him out of the café. She examined his back carefully as they walked, unable to find even a trace of the wings that she knew were concealed there and feeling her own shift uncomfortably beneath her hoodie. It was true that she didn’t have the proper bindings to keep them hidden; one wrong move and they would be made as plain to the mortals as the nose on her face. Armin glanced over his shoulder; caught her staring at his back.

“I have some spare bindings back at my place; don’t worry about it.”

Annie relaxed slightly, all the while questioning why an angel would be showing her such kindness. _Although it isn’t as though I have much of a choice,_ she thought sorely. _It’s either this or crawling back to Bertholdt and Reiner, which is hardly an option._ She knew that they would try to change her mind again, and she was in no mood to discuss the killing of an insecure little girl with a future that, for all intents and purposes, could be a very bright one.

“Here we are,” Armin announced, after a block or so. He motioned up to the apartment building. “Come on. The elevator is broken, so we’ve got a bit of a climb.”

Five flights of stairs later, Annie found herself in a small, stuffy little apartment crammed from floor to ceiling with books and empty cigarette cartons. Armin shoved a pile of paperbacks off the couch, motioning to the cleared space.

“Sit down. Make yourself at home. I’m going to step out for a quick smoke.”

“I don’t mind if you smoke in here,” Annie said, a bit confused; Armin chuckled.

“I do. Paper absorbs the smell, and I won’t have my books exposed to such things.”

The demoness’ eyebrows arched. “You protect your books from things you willingly take into your own body?”

Armin smiled ruefully. “An irony, isn’t it? I’ll be back.”

And with that he was gone, leaving Annie to leaf through his impressive library. She had just picked up a dusty set of The Divine Comedy when the angel returned, his breath still smoky.

“Would you like those bindings now, or do you prefer to keep your wings exposed when you can?”

Annie grimaced slightly. “I supposed I had better get used to wearing a binding.”

The boy smiled kindly at her. “I’ll grab one of my extras, then.”

Armin vanished into another section of the apartment, and Annie took the opportunity to free her dark red wings from beneath her hoodie. It felt delightful to stretch them out, and she extended them so much that she nearly knocked over a stack of encyclopedias. When Armin returned, she retracted them slightly out of reflex.

“Don’t,” the boy murmured. He reached out, then; startled the girl when he touched one of her leathery wings. “Let me see them. Please?”

Annie, although uncomfortable, let her wings unfurl once again. Armin ran both his hands along the bony top of one, his fingers caressing the rough skin as he examined it.

“Beautiful…” he whispered. “I’ve never seen a demon’s wings in person…”

Annie twitched, pulling her wing from his grasp. “And I’ve never seen an angel’s, but I suspect you won’t unbind yours for me.”

The boy laughed slightly. “You’re already getting to know me.”

Annie shook her head ruefully, accepting the ruin-inscribed bindings that he offered her. “Thanks.” She slipped her shirt off over her head; easier, most winged creatures thought, to bind their wings to their skin rather than their clothes. Armin picked up her shirt while she worked and stuck his hand through one gaping slit in its back.

“I’ll lend you one of my shirts, if you’d like.”

Annie made a face that was half-smile and half-grimace. “I’m accepting far too much of your charity.”

“Think nothing of it,” the boy replied, with a shrug. “I’m an angel; charity is supposed to be my specialty.”

“'Supposed to be…’” Annie murmured, and Armin laughed again.

“I’ll have to watch my wording around you, I see.”

“I’m more intelligent than your usual company, remember?” the demoness quipped, and Armin made a motion of concession.

“Granted.” The boy wove around a stack of books, vanishing into another room. “Would you like a drink? I opened a nice bottle of rose wine last night, if that strikes your fancy.”

Annie gave a little snort of surprise, clearing a spot for herself to sit on her host’s book-covered couch. “An angel that smokes _and_ drinks?”

“It’s a very light wine,” the boy replied, a bit huffily. “You’d have to work at getting a buzz from it.”

“Still…” Annie murmured, and was surprised when he reappeared with two glasses of a dark pink liquid. “I didn’t say I wanted any.”

“You didn’t say you didn’t, either,” Armin replied, handing her a glass; Annie, half for the sake of politeness, accepted it. The angel tapped his against hers, the sound of glass against glass ringing around the apartment. “To unlikely friendships.”

Annie, somewhat grudgingly, raised the glass to her lips and took a drink. It was more pleasant than the coffee, certainly, and she let herself settle further back into the angel’s couch. Armin had moved another stack of books, revealing a chair that had been entirely hidden from view, and tucked his legs up underneath him as he sat.

“So do you intend to return to Hell any time soon? I mean, realistically speaking.”

Annie shifted uncomfortably. “No… no, I really don’t, to tell the truth.” She wasn’t altogether sure that she _should_ be telling the truth, but at the same time there didn’t seem to be anything dangerous about the given situation. “If I go back, I’ll not only have to face my Brothers, but I’ll be reprimanded for coming to Earth without proper clearance.”

“So you’re a fugitive now, is that it?” Armin asked curiously, and the demoness took another drink of her wine as she considered the question.

“I suppose so. The only way that I could escape punishment is to ask my Brothers to lie for me—ask them to say that my trip to Earth had something to do with our Mission, in which case I wouldn’t need to jump through the usual hoops. But… with how we parted ways, they would never do that, and I couldn’t ask them to.”

The angel nodded thoughtfully, and then motioned to his apartment. “Well, you’re very welcome to stay here for as long as you need a roof over your head.”

Annie felt that she should question his kindness more, but at the same time was loathe to. She didn’t relish the idea of sleeping on the streets, and it had been an incredible stroke of luck to run into him not more than half an hour after she had come through the Portal. Both their kinds were rare on Earth, and she had precious little chance of finding another sympathetic Winged.

“Thank you, Armin,” she said, but felt the need to add, “although keep in mind that I won’t be lowering my guard.”

The boy smiled easily. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Our kinds are at war, after all, even if we might forget that from time to time.”

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Annie jumped; Armin, however, didn’t flinch, simply rising and weaving through the towers of books to reach the door. When he opened it, Annie peered around to get a good look at the girl who stood outside.

“Mikasa!” the angel greeted her, ushering her inside. “You’re just in time! Allow me to introduce the succubus Annie. Annie, this is Mikasa, a dear friend of mine.”

“She’s Adamkin,” Annie exclaimed in surprise, and the human girl’s eyes narrowed.

“I might be a Daughter of Adam, but I know all there is to know about the Winged,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. Armin laid one hand on her shoulder, almost as if holding her back.

“Annie will be staying here for a while,” he said easily, and then winked at the demoness. “Don’t be mean to her, Mikasa.”

The human girl huffed, but contented herself with knocking over a tower of Armin’s books, much to his squeaked dismay. “It’s worse than the last time I was over. At least I could walk the last time.”

“Mikasa, please! Y-You’ll set off a domino effect, and it’ll take me a month to get them stacked again!”

Annie huffed softly with amusement, settling back into the couch again. As alarming as the Mikasa girl had initially been, she seemed no more dangerous than Armin may or may not be. The demoness took another drink of the wine in her hard, wondering all the while if she really should. But again she shrugged; it wasn’t as if she had much to lose anyway.

_And I do… have something to gain…_ The thought appeared unbidden as she watched Armin hurriedly scoop up his fallen books. _… Perhaps there are people in this world worth knowing. I’ve just… never met one before._

_... ... ..._

Armin’s couch, once cleared off, proved to be a very comfortable place to sleep. Not that Annie was sleeping all that well, but her unrest didn’t detract from the comfort of her resting spot. 

She couldn’t quite calm her mind—so much had happened in the space of one short day, and it had all ended with her curled up on a strangely sympathetic angel’s couch somewhere on Earth, without anywhere else to go. 

She had taken off her bindings; her sinewy wings beneath were sore, and if felt nice to let them dangle off the edge of the couch behind her. She had looked at Armin carefully when he had come out of his bedroom to say goodnight, but his had still appeared wrapped up tightly. She wondered idly if he ever unbound them, and winced at the thought of how stiff they would get. It was true that she had never seen an angel’s wings up close, and was admittedly curious.

But Armin had extended so much kindness to her that she didn’t feel right questioning him, much less over such a small thing. She was unused to having kindnesses extended to her, let alone such magnanimous ones—and by an angel no less. It was horribly suspicious, Annie thought, and yet blessedly convenient. _Where would I have ended up tonight if I hadn’t run into Armin?_ Even if she left his apartment with the dawn and never saw him again, she had at least had a warm, dry place to sleep that night, a place that smelled pleasantly of paper and ink. He had given her supper, as well, and more wine.

_He must have an ulterior motive of some sort…_

But his smile was so honest—so innocent. His blue eyes were so bright and intelligent; so clear. And she felt her heart flutter as she remembered them.

_This is… dangerous. Regardless of whether or not Armin himself is dangerous, these feelings are._  

The angel’s couch, faintly smoke-scented though it was, proved to be a very comfortable place to sleep. But Annie didn’t sleep well that night, not with such thoughts running circles through her weary mind.

… … …

The demoness’ light, disturbed sleep was shattered when Armin got up in the morning, although she didn’t make her wakefulness known. The first thing he did was tiptoe through the living room, and she heard the porch door open as he stepped out—presumably for a morning smoke. The angel was humming softly when he came back in, and she heard him rustling around in the kitchen.

The muffled _whir_ of a mixer.

_Chop-chop-chop_ on a cutting board.

The _hiss_ of something in a skillet.

And then the scents of breakfast permeating the apartment.

“Annie! Are you awake yet?”

Deciding that he probably knew the answer anyway, Annie surrendered and rolled her shoulders, stretching her wings out. “Yes.”

“Good! I’ve got some breakfast going.”

“I can tell.”

“Well then come here and keep me company! It’s almost done.”

Resignedly, Annie got up and gave her back a proper stretch; rubbed her eyes and ran one hand through her tousled hair. She shook out her wings and tucked them into her spine just enough to keep them from dragging on the ground.

“Didn’t sleep too well?” Armin asked sympathetically, when she entered the kitchen. It was mostly—amazingly—devoid of books, although there was one set of shelves in the corner overflowing with cookbooks. He explained, almost apologetically, “You’ve got some pretty deep circles under your eyes.”

“Not really,” Annie admitted, rubbing crossly at one eye as she sat down at the small bar in front of the stove. “But I’m not a morning person to begin with. Your rummaging around with the pans woke me.”

“Sorry,” Armin said easily, smiling apologetically. “I’ll make breakfast worth it, I promise.”

“You’d better,” the demoness replied, crossing her arms on the counter and resting her chin on them. It smelled delicious, though, and she found herself watching Armin as he darted from side to side, then tossed an omelet in a way that was clearly more showy than necessary.

“And breakfast is served!” he announced cheerfully, turning off the stove and dishing the food. He didn’t sit beside his guest at the bar, but instead leaned against the wall with his own plate in hand.

“You’re quite the cook,” Annie commented, tucking into the eggs and potatoes he had presented her with; her wings rose involuntarily with pleasure. Armin smiled sheepishly.

“’Least I can do,” he muttered, his voice muffled by a bite of his own breakfast. Annie raised one eyebrow, but opted not to question him, at least not on that.

“How long have you been on Earth?”

“About nine years,” he admitted, taking a huge mouthful of eggs. Annie felt her eyes widen.

“‘Nine years?’” she repeated disbelievingly. “On and off, or consistently?”

“Consistently.” He covered his mouth to avoid showing half-chewed food. “I like it here.”

“Really.” It wasn’t a question—Annie didn’t believe him. Armin shrugged.

“There’s no such thing as nicotine and alcohol in heaven, you know. Or chocolate, for that matter.”

“Hmm.” Annie took another bite of her breakfast. “So you just choose to stay down here?”

“For the time being, at least. And you’re welcome to stay with me as long as you wish, as I don’t anticipate I’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.” 

Annie considered the statement. On the one hand, it was as lucky a break as she could have hoped for. On the other, she didn’t trust him—not in the slightest. She didn’t trust what he had just told her, she didn’t trust his motives, she didn’t trust— 

“You don’t trust me, though.” Armin sighed it almost resignedly. “Do you? Someone as intelligent and shrewd as yourself wouldn’t.” 

“I don’t have much other choice,” Annie pointed out, mildly irritated. “Hell won’t welcome me back.” 

“It isn’t that hard to blend into human society,” Armin said, almost imploringly. “You seem more than capable of building yourself a respectable life here, and you wouldn’t have any need to see or make contact with me or any other Winged ever again.” 

“And live as a mortal? For how long?” the demoness challenged. “We don’t age. What kind of eternal life would that be?” 

“You can choose to age,” Armin murmured. 

“But never die,” Annie retorted. “So what? Allow yourself to grow old and then revert? Start over again and again? How many lives could you live until you lost the will to live them?“ 

“That’s something I don’t particularly care to find out,” the angel replied pensively, then sighed. “But if you don’t intend to return to Hell, that’s something you’ll have to think seriously about. If you don’t want to live as a human, I’m not aware of a third option.” 

Annie bit her lip, breakfast forgotten. He had gotten straight to the core of her anxieties. “There is no other option,” she said, and he tilted his head. 

“Then what, exactly, do you think you’ll end up doing?” 

But Annie hadn’t exactly spoken the truth. There was a third option, in her mind—living outside of mortal society, while still dwelling on Earth. It was a desperately lonely option, an eternity of isolation, but… 

_… You, Armin, offer an alternative to that loneliness. … If I could only get to the heart of your intentions…  
_

She could envision spending considerable time in his company, if not eternity itself. Though perhaps, she thought, that was nothing but a naive, baseless pipe dream born of sheer desperation. 

The angel was watching her intently, but retracted his question a moment later. “Never mind. You can stay with me while you’re figuring it out.” 

“You’re a fugitive too, aren’t you?” There was no hesitation in Annie’s question; no reason for her to resist asking it. Armin’s blue eyes widened. 

“Whatever makes you say that?” he asked innocently. 

“Nothing about you adds up,” Annie said simply. “ _Unless_ I add that into the equation. Then a lot of things seem to make sense.” 

“Would it change your perception of me if I said I was?” Armin queried, and Annie gave a disbelieving snort. 

“Would it? It’s a rather significant detail.” 

Armin smiled delightedly. “You’re clever,” he said. “You figure it out. If you choose to stay, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to observe me. And I you—something I rather look forward to.” 

That somewhat stole Annie’s motivation to question him further, and she ended up, unexpected and faintly, smiling. 

“It would be an entertaining game, if you didn’t already know all there is to know about my circumstances.” 

But Armin only shook his head. “I would bet there’s more to you than meets the eye, and I look forward to discovering every bit of it.” 

… … … 

“You would have to assume that perfect impartiality is possible,” Armin asserted, sipping his rose wine and then gesturing. “And you’ll never be able to make that case.” 

“It doesn’t,” Annie replied. “But to argue that the existence of _free will_ is dependent upon that is ludicrous. It’s the same as saying that people can’t make their own decisions, independent of their influences.” 

“No one can be 100% percent aware of the external factors acting on them, though,” Armin argued. 

“But you can identify the conclusions you come to and analyze them independently,” the demoness replied, from her side of the couch. “That part of your thought process is yours, and yours alone.” 

“Even so, that decision isn’t yours,” Armin replied. “Your circumstances dictate that decision—and logic if you’re of that mindset, or emotion if you’re of that mindset. Either way, it’s a predictable result.” 

“Saying the result is predictable doesn’t prove it’s not the result of free will,” Annie said reasonably, tilting her wine glass toward him. 

“It isn’t true free will because it’s predetermined,” Armin countered. “If it’s predictable, assuming 100% predictability, then there never truly was a choice. Hence, the outcome was predetermined, not freely-chosen.” 

Annie’s brow furrowed. “I’ll give you that one, maybe,” she said, “but that’s assuming 100% predictability. No living being is 100% predictable.” 

“Nonsense,” Armin scoffed. “If one has enough information to work off of, _everything_ becomes 100% predictable.” 

Annie shook her head. “I’ll have to politely disagree.” 

Armin gave a long-suffering sigh, but shrugged. “That’s your right, I suppose.” 

“Could you predict it?” 

The angel’s eyes flashed. “I hardly have all the information when it comes to you, my dear succubus.” 

Nearly a month had passed since Annie Leonheart had come to Earth. She had spent the entirety of that time in the company of one Armin Arlert, an angel she still knew precious little about. But she did know that she had come to care deeply about him, although that was a horrifying, inconvenient, and unwise thing. 

_Is this what humans romanticize as “falling in love?” It certainly feels as though I’ve lost my footing…  
_

One of her favorite things about living with Armin was the conversations they got into, often stretching into the wee hours of the morning and accompanied by one too many glasses of his homemade rose wine. He was an intellectual match for her at every turn, and more often than not their exchanges ended in draws. 

Eternity stuck on Earth hardly seemed like a terrible thing when she considered spending it in the company of Armin Arlert. 

Annie had grown increasingly certain that the angel was on the run from something. His friendship with the human girl, Mikasa Ackerman, was perhaps the strangest piece of the puzzle. Annie had decided that she didn’t like the girl long ago, and Mikasa seemed to have similar hostilities towards her, so the demoness tried not to dwell on that situation too much.   
Perhaps, she thought, she could grudgingly accept the human girl’s presence if she was, indeed, so precious to Armin. 

Overall, Annie was settling into life with her enigmatic angel host. 

“Well…” Armin murmured, stretching luxuriously, “it’s nearly dawn. We should both catch a couple of hours of sleep, don’t you think?” 

“Sure,” Annie agreed, reaching for her blanket as Armin rose. “See you in the morning. You said you’d teach me that way to make eggs, didn’t you?” 

“Hmm…” Armin made an affirmative sound, but Annie saw the muscles of his back twitch, as if trying to move his tightly-bound wings. She had never seen them unwrapped. “Annie?” 

“Yes?” A tingle running up her spine, Annie sat up a bit straighter as he turned back to her. Something seemed strange about him, serious in comparison to the flush of wine in his cheeks. 

“…” The angel shook his head. “Never mind.” Then he smiled, stunningly. “Have you ever seen the ocean here on Earth? It’s one of the most spectacular sights.” And then he leaned back in over her, his lips brushing her cheek as he said, “We’ll go for a road rip tomorrow, to the ocean. How does that sound?” 

Annie shivered slightly, but her breathy answer was a definitive, “Yes. Sure, Armin.” 

He smelled vaguely like smoke, and he laughed slightly. Then, as he drew back, his lips touched not just her cheek but her mouth, just lightly. 

“Alright,” he murmured against her lips, his breath hot. “Tomorrow. I’ll look forward to it.” 

Before Annie could react, Armin drew away; made his careful way through the maze of books to his bedroom hallway. But before he could disappear through the door, she called out. 

“Thank you, Armin. I’ll look forward to it, too.” 

The angle turned back, smiling brightly. “I’m so glad I could help you, Annie. I’m glad I could be a good person to you, when you needed one. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Long after he was gone, Annie was still nodding; still thinking about the soft touch of his lips, and wondering what the next day would bring. 

… … … 

Annie was woken from her sound sleep by rough hands; drowsy and confused, she shouted a question. Her face was slammed to the floor for her trouble, and a tower of books crashed down violently beside her. 

_Armin…?!  
_

His name was on her lips as she tried to determine what was happening— _realized_ what was happening, as she was hauled back onto her feet. She couldn’t feel anything beyond confusion as her sleep-clouded eyes roamed the familiar room, littered now with trampled books and stained in the dawn light. 

_Armin…_

All around her were white wings—the angelic feathers she had never seen him display proudly. They were swirling around her, disorienting and dizzying. The voices, too, were muddled and tangled beyond comprehension. 

_Armin…  
_

And then, wings of a different color—of a texture that didn’t match the plush luxury that befit an angel of god. A human girl stood with her hand on one of those blackened, gnarled limbs, rubbing at the ridge in a soothing fashion. 

“Armin!” 

Her voice reached him, she was sure. The muscles of his back twitched, as she had seen them do earlier, setting his skeletal wings rattling like dead tree branches in a cold wind. But he didn’t turn, and her vision faded to a seething darkness before she could call out to him again. 

... ... ...

Annie hardly expected visitors in her cold, bright cell. Prisons should be dark, she thought, to reflect the moods of their prisoners. But nothing was dim in heaven, and somehow that made the whole situation feel worse. 

“Annie.” 

The demoness didn’t respond. His voice was familiar—far too much so for her liking. She wanted to reply familiarly; openly. But that, she told herself, was just force of habit. 

“Won’t you even let me explain?” he implored, his voice frail. “Annie…!”

But he composed himself; took an audible breath. And even though her head was still down, eyes averted, he began to speak. 

“You see…” Armin said, indifferent as to whether his captive audience wanted to hear or not, “I was assigned the guardian angel of Eren Jaeger. 

"Now, most children have the ability to see us, you know—the origins of many so-called imaginary friends and monsters under beds. But what made Eren different was that his Sight didn’t fade with age… and his friend Mikasa was the same way. Before I knew it, a legitimate and powerful friendship had sprung up between the three of us—trouble, I knew, but did my best to ignore the possible complications.

"And then one day, when they were both nine, Mikasa was kidnapped while walking home from school.” Annie looked up despite herself; Armin had his head hung; was leaning against the edge of the wall with his wings hidden behind it. “I didn’t know what to do. I _should_ have stayed with her, and acted as any other guardian angel—not saving her, but soothing her fears and working to change the kidnappers’ hearts. But she was screaming—screaming for me to get help. So I went and found Eren, and told him what had happened.

"Eren wouldn’t hear of calling the police; he said they would be too late. So we went to the kidnappers’ hideout, Eren and I. It would have been too late if we had gone to the police—we arrived just as one of them was preparing to rape her.” Annie winced at his bluntness, and Armin took a deep breath before continuing.

“Eren killed two of them. The third one stabbed him, then panicked and ran off; he was captured by the authorities later. And Eren died—he died with no remorse in his soul, only an ugly, potent sense of satisfaction. He died damned—having taken life. Granted, it was in defense of someone he loved, but his heart was black with the pride he took in the act. His soul, immediately upon leaving its body, was chained and prepared for Hell.

"I couldn’t let that happen. First I pleaded the case of self-defense, and the Courts returned with the counterargument I’ve already covered. At that point, I had no real choice, unless I was going to let a nine-year old child—and my dear friend—be dragged to and tortured in Hell for the rest of his existence.

"So I submitted that I had strongly influenced his decision to go after Mikasa; that I was responsible for his actions more than he. The worst sin anyone can commit, save for outright rebellion against The Lord, is misleading a child. But it would save Eren from eternal suffering—my gaudy wings were a small price to pay.

"The Courts found it to be true. I was stripped of my wings and declared Fallen, banished to Earth for the duration of my eternal life. Eren was granted entrance to heaven, although I remember that he tried his hardest to refuse. And I was cast out, with only one hope of regaining The Lord’s favor and returning—that being the capture of a demon on earth. There is still a war going on, after all, although the best of us forget it sometimes.”

His eyes hardened suddenly as he turned his head slightly, meeting the Succubus’ gaze. “I miss Eren, Annie. He’s probably up there causing all manner of trouble for some poor angel, and I want to be a part of that. I haven’t seen him in almost ten years now. When you appeared, practically on my doorstep, I thought that Fate had finally taken pity on me. But no—it was still just laughing at me, as it always has.

"Because I fell in love with the Succubus I wanted so dearly to betray.”

“But you still betrayed me,” Annie said flatly, unmoved. Her heart, though, was hammering in her chest, and she couldn’t look away from Armin’s swimming blue eyes.

“I still betrayed you. You are, after all, a demon; our kinds are still at war, and we mustn’t loose sight of that amid all the emotional drama.”

“That’s an excuse,” Annie spat, and Armin flinched.

“When did that… become an excuse…?” he wondered softly, and at last looked away from her; down at his feet. “I’m so sorry, Annie.”

The Succubus sighed; looked down at her bound hands. “Well… Armin, I hope that whatever was worth all this brings you happiness. Just never forget that that happiness is built on whatever’s left of me.”

Armin nodded gravely; pushed away from the wall; left without another word, his rotten, mangled Fallen’s wings trailing on the ground behind him. And then Annie bent her head further, waiting for the tears to come.

They never did.

… … … 

The chains that held her were uncomfortable.

Annie tried hard to remember what happened to demons captured by the heavenly guard; it had been so long since she’d heard of it happening, she couldn’t remember what became of the prisoners. It would be nothing pleasant, certainly.

_My Brothers… will they ever learn what’s happened to me? Would they care? Will anyone… even notice…?_

Swallowing hard, she tried not to think of such things. But when she pushed her Brothers from her mind, all that flooded in was Armin—his smile; his vaguely smoky scent; the sweet rose wine they had shared during late night philosophical debates.

And that made her throat close up with the desire to cry.

Time warped for the demoness—she didn’t know how long she had been chained there in the oddly bright dungeon, be it days or weeks. She knew that her mouth was terribly dry. _Perhaps they’ll just… leave me here…_ she thought distantly. _That would be… unpleasant. It takes… years for our rational to collapse… and we never_ do _die, not completely…_ She knew it was unlikely, but her imagination was beginning to run wild.

_And this is all… because of Armin…_

He had been doing what he thought he had to, though; she couldn’t hate him for that. _This would be so much easier… if I could hate him…_

The tap-tap-tapping at her cell wall was something she had long ago decided bore no real thought. But it kept on, getting louder and steadily louder as the indescribable time passed. Eventually she looked over, eyes half-closed, and was surprised to see a tiny piece of stone dislodge itself from her wall. The tapping continued, and the tiny hole widened—first the size of a coin, and then large enough for a head to appear through.

“A-Annie…!”

“… Brother?” Confused and surprised, Annie tried to shift into a more upright position.

“Get outta the way, Bertl,” another voice grunted, and suddenly her other Blood Brother was pushing against the wall with his strong shoulder. The stone gave, sending both boys sprawling out into her cell in a tangle of limbs.

“Brothers?” Annie repeated, still lost for any words or explanation. Bertholdt smiled sheepishly up at her, his wings fluttering slightly. 

“H-Hey, Annie. W-We came to rescue you…!”

“‘Rescue… me…?’” the succubus echoed, as Reiner came over and began fiddling with her shackles. When he managed to unlock them, her hands fell limp at her sides. “Why?”

“What do you mean, 'why?’” the blonde grunted. “You’re our Blood Sister.”

“I know you’ve n-never felt that… close to us,” Bertholdt stammered, picking himself up, “b-but that doesn’t mean that we care for you any less.”

Annie stared uselessly up at him for a moment, at least until Reiner freed her legs and pulled her to her feet. “Come on. We have to get out of here.”

“Then… you didn’t report me a runaway?” Annie asked, and both boys gave her a baleful look.

“What kind of family would that make us?” It was Reiner who finally spoke, wings rising slightly. “Even though you betrayed us by leaving, our family really would be done for if we reacted in kind.”

“B-Both parties have to turn their backs before a relationship can really end,” Bertholdt said. “So long as one side is willing to… to put themselves out there, th-then there’s hope for a reconciliation. That was our logic.”

But Annie was hardly listening anymore. Her heart was swamped with a sudden love for her Brothers; her mind muddled with how utterly unworthy she was. And she couldn’t help but think of another broken relationship in her life.

_I abandoned our Mission… because I believed it was the right thing to do. I betrayed my Brothers and fled. And yet, wretched and unworthy as I am, having turned my backs on them… here they are._

_Armin… did what he thought he needed to. He gave up everything for his friend, and betrayed me for a chance at being with that dear friend again. Wretched and unworthy though he is…_  

“I… can’t leave.”

_I can’t take that away from him, not knowing the painful choices he’s made for the sake of that chance._  

Bertholdt’s eyes widened. “Wh-What? Why?!” Reiner, too, objected in the like. But Annie shook her head.

“A relationship is only dead when both parties turn their backs, you say?” she asked, and then looked down. “I’m here… by the hand of an angel that I’m not ready to turn my back on. I’m not ready to let everything we could have been die… or let his betrayal of me be in vain. And besides…” she let herself smile, just slightly, “I’m still not going through with the Mission. What sort of future awaits me regardless?”

Both of her Brothers paused for a moment, seeming to seriously consider her words. Then Reiner, with an audible thud, sat down, wings folded at his back.

“I don’t want to go through with the Mission either, and I’m not going to leave you here alone. I’m staying, too.”

“R-Reiner…!” Bertholdt began desperately, and then turned. “But Annie… what kind of future do you think is waiting for us here? Th-this is war, Annie! We w-won’t get any mercy!”

“Neither of us will think any less of you if you leave, Bertl,” Reiner said, from his spot on the floor. “In fact, I’d feel better if you did. Right, Annie?”

“R-Right…” the succubus murmured dazedly, staring down at her Brother. “But Reiner… you would really…?”

“It sounds like you have some damn important reasons for staying,” the demon said, nodding determinedly. “You’re my Sister—your causes are my causes.”

“M-Mine too!” Bertholdt cried suddenly, going down hard enough to bounce slightly when he hit the ground. He crushed his own wing briefly, whimpering as he straightened it. “I’m staying too!”

“Brothers…” Annie murmured, and Reiner smiled up at her, putting one strong arm around Bertholdt’s trembling shoulders.

“We’ll never turn our backs, Annie, no matter how many times you show us yours. And if you’ve finally found someone you’re willing to do the same for… then maybe there’s hope you’ll feel that way about us too, one day.”

Annie blinked forcefully in an attempt to rid her eyes of tears, but it didn’t quite work. So instead she simply sat down, reaching out one hand to touch Reiner’s thigh; the other, Bertholdt’s shoulder.

And then she bent her head, and was silent.

The clapping, a single pair of hands, was startling to say the least.

“Bravo, you little shitstains. Just give me a fucking minute to wipe my eyes.”

All three demons looked up sharply to see a surprisingly short angel standing at the entrance to Anne’s cell. His massive wings, even tucked in close to his spine as they were, were obvious in their splendor. He blotted at his eyes with his cravat in an obvious show of sarcasm, and then sobered.

“Erwin will be very interested in this.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Annie asked flatly, but the angel was already walking away.

“The last thing demons are entitled to are answers,” he called over his shoulder, and then he was gone, leaving the three Siblings to ponder their circumstances as they sat together.

… … … 

It was said that those angels who pledged allegiance to Lucifer were condemned and cast out of heaven beside their Fallen Lord. Some grew to resent their fate, while others never wavered in their loyalty to Lucifer—by then called Satan. But The Lord was unsympathetic to their plight regardless, for they had chosen their own path.

However, what was to become of the second, even third, generation of demons, born to that original crop of voluntary evil? What of those who had no choice, but were simply born into the searing fires of Hell? What of those born with the wings of demons, and yet the confused and tender hearts of children?

… … … 

Armin Arlert stretched his wings luxuriously, feeling the satisfying pull of muscles and rustling his lush feathers in the cool dawn air. Eren, who had dropped off into an exhausted doze a short while before, was stirring on the angel’s lap, and Armin touched his friend’s hair absently. The boy had been overjoyed to see him—so much so that the two of them had talked and frolicked together through the night.

“Was it worth it?” he whispered, and Eren replied with a sleepy murmur. The angel felt himself smile, tangling his fingers deeper in his friend’s hair.

_Yes, it was… it had to be._  

“Armin Arlert?”

Armin turned, cocking his head curiously up at the broad-shouldered boy. A normal spirit, he decided, judging by the lack of wings. A moment later a second boy popped out from behind his back, sweating nervously.

“Yes?” He placed one hand casually over Eren’s ear, not wanting him to be woken prematurely. “Can I help you?”

“Hey, you two!!”

A new voice, sharp and commanding, made all three parties jump, and Eren sat up blearily and looked around. Another angel was standing some yards behind the boys, his grand wings ruffled slightly.

“You’re not allowed to talk to the damn civilians!!” the angel called. “Shitty Erwin put me in charge of you bastards, so you better not think you’ll get away with anything on my watch!”

“Just a minute!” the broad shouldered one called, and then turned back to Armin. “Annie has a message for you.”

Armin felt his whole body tense. “What?”

The strange boy grinned, then. “She said, 'Make it up to me by waiting for me!’”

Armin’s mouth fell open as the broad-shouldered boy turned, trotting back toward the irate angel waiting on the ridge. The other, however, proving to be very tall now that he had nothing to hide behind, lingered.

“A-A relationship… is only dead when b-both parties turn their backs. A-And Annie… she chose n-not to. Don’t… l-let her down again.”

And then he was following his companion, and Armin noted with a sharp interest that they were wearing binders—charmed binders, no less, that the wearer couldn’t remove on their own. Head spinning uselessly, he felt the strength leave his body as he contemplated their words.

“Who’s Annie?”

Armin glanced up in surprise at Eren, having forgotten that his friend was there. The boy’s turquoise eyes were soft—nonjudgmental, and shining with curiosity. So Armin found himself smiling slightly as he turned and looked back at the cloud strewn ground.

“Apparently… someone I’m not as prepared to turn my back on as I thought I was.”

… … … 

“My Brothers get to preform their Service up in heaven. Why the hell am I stranded here looking after the likes of you, _Ackerman_?”

“Damned if I know, Leonheart.”

“Hurry up and die.”

“Fine Guardian Angel you are.”

“I’m only doing this for Armin.”

“Good to know. You aren’t worthy of him, anyway.”

“Oh of course not, least of all considering I stood by him when he _stabbed me in the back_.”

“Don’t play the martyr, Demon. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Damn you to Hell.”

“Same to you.”

“You’d fit in better than I ever did.”

“I don’t know—I’m missing the ugly wings that suit you so well.”

“I’m sure some horns would go very nicely with that sour face of yours.”

“I’ll bet you have a hideous little tail, too.”

“You’ll have to ask Armin about that.”

“… I’ll kill you.”

“Immortal. So sorry.”

“I can’t believe I have to put up with you for the rest of my life.”

“I can’t believe _I_ have to put up with _you_ for the rest of your life.”

“… Let’s both blame Armin for this.”

“Let’s.”

“I’ll have a few words for him when we finally meet again.”

“As will I.”

“The first words out of _your_ mouth, Succubus, better be 'I love you,’ or I’ll kick your ass all the way back to Hell.”

“They might be… but not because you told me to.”

“Then just let my threat stand to keep you from chickening out, Leonheart.”

“Fair enough, Ackerman.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed~ Comments, constructive crit, and commentary always welcome!   
> Also, if you're on tumblr and so inclined, check out parts [one](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/143932410268/held-against-you-chapter-1), [two](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/144846856898/held-against-you-chapter-2), and [three](http://niaowrites.tumblr.com/post/145617482713/held-against-you-chapter-3) of this fic on my writing blog! Always feel free to drop by prompts/suggestions there, too. :3 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, and thank you so much for reading~


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